It wasn't a week later that Quinn showed up at Finn's unannounced, though no one was actually bothered by this, her smiling and happy presence more than welcome in the sullen days following Brittany's visit. Santana had sunken into a deeper funk, bordering on depression ever since her wife had been by. At the sight of her friend though, she immediately perked up, elated to see Quinn.

The blonde was just as excited, quickly sweeping Santana and Maya into tight hugs, and then sharing a warm and friendly hello with Finn, who she hadn't seen for almost a year. When all the pleasantries were over with, Finn ushered them all into the living room, disappearing into the kitchen with Maya to fetch drinks for everyone. This gave Quinn and Santana a few moments alone, and Quinn took advantage of it automatically, turning towards Santana and clearing her throat.

"I suppose you know why I'm here," Quinn said lightly, and Santana's smile faltered.

"I thought you wanted to see me and Maya," Santana said, her voice unsure now after that ominous lead in.

"Of course I do. I miss you guys." Quinn smiled at her sadly, and Santana's eyebrows furrowed. She was waiting for Quinn to say what she obviously had to say. "But I came to talk to you about Brittany."

Automatically Santana tensed. Of course. Why hadn't that even crossed her mind? It made perfect sense for Brittany's closest friend to come here and try to plead her case. She wondered how much Quinn really knew, how much Brittany had told her... It didn't seem like Quinn to know all of that and still be bothered with their relationship.

"How is she?" Santana asked, her voice strained. She started to toy with a loose string on the arm of the couch, avoiding her friend's gaze. If Quinn didn't know, she didn't want to be the one to tell her all of the gory details.

"Honestly? Not well. But things are starting to look up."

At this Santana's head jerked up, eyebrows furrowed as she looked at Quinn.

"And that means what exactly?"

"She quit her job at the company," Quinn said easily, and the look in her eyes let Santana know that the blonde knew the significance of that statement. "She cut them all out of her life, Santana."

"That's supposed to make everything better?" Santana asked tersely. She couldn't believe Quinn. She knew, she knew, and she was still here trying to make Brittany look good.

"No, it doesn't," Quinn admitted, her voice soft but firm. "But it's a start, isn't it? She quit, and she opened her own studio. She asked me to come and teach with her. I accepted."

"Okay," Santana said, unwilling to admit that that was indeed huge. Brittany had been with that company for years, and it paid really, really well. Not only that, but the prestige that went along with this particular dance company was very well known, and sought after. Noone who was in would ever dare to quit once they were in. Santana knew exactly how much of a big deal this was for her wife to have done. And Brittany had always talked about one day opening her own studio, once her own career had dwindled down... The fact that she was doing it now was shocking, to say the least.

"She's trying, Santana. And I know you know that. She told me she came here."

"She did," Santana admitted, nodding her head. "She said she was going to therapy."

"By herself," Quinn clarified sharply. "She needs you to go with her, Santana, if you're ever going to work through this."

"I'm not sure I want that."

Quinn shifted on the couch, the slight wrinkle of her brow indicating she was thinking carefully. The blonde nodded her head slowly after a few moments.

"That's fair. After what she put you through, that's fair, and I wouldn't blame you for it," Quinn started to say, though Santana knew she wasn't done. "But Brittany does. Brittany does want to work things out, and she's trying everything she knows how to do that on her own. But it doesn't work like that, does it?"

Santana watched her friend's face attentively, reading between the lines. Not that Quinn was leaving much room between them, pretty much telling Santana exactly how it was.

"I suppose."

"She needs you. I know, I know you're the last person to want to help her, and I get that, I do, but... She's your wife."

"My wife that cheated on me, or are we going to ignore that part? I'm not the bad guy here," Santana said, feeling her face flush. No way was anyone going to turn this around on her. Brittany was wrong, she deserved to feel this way, not her.

"No, you're not. And you're right, but no one is trying to ignore it. She's trying to fix it," Quinn said gently.

"Did she tell you to come here?" Santana asked, her eyes flashing darkly.

"She didn't, no. She has no idea I'm here," the blonde explained, and Santana knew she was telling the truth. "I hate what she did, Santana, but I also know... I guess I don't, actually, I don't know anything," Quinn said, throwing a hand up and letting it drop onto her lap unceremoniously. "I don't know anything but the fact that you two were perfect for each other, that you love each other, and that the Santana I know wouldn't just walk away from her marriage."

"You don't know this Santana, the one that had to hide something like that for years, keep it from everybody, so they wouldn't have to know what was going on," Santana said angrily. "You have no idea what that does to a person. So you're right; you don't know anything."

They sat in silence for a few moments, each staring at the other. After awhile, Quinn spoke again.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, reaching for Santana's hands and taking them in her own. "I am, I really am. Maybe I was wrong to come here."

"No, you weren't," Santana countered, her shoulders sagging as she let out a deep breath. "I needed to know..."

"One session?" Quinn said timidly, biting her lip as she searched her friend's face. "I know it hurts, but maybe the counseling will help you, too..."

"Has it helped Brittany?" Santana asked, her eyes filling with tears. Could it be that easy? Could just talking to a shrink with her wife make these horrible feelings go away? Make her feel loved, safe, and secure again? Did it work like that?

"Nothing but you will help Brittany," Quinn admitted sadly. "And maybe..." Quinn paused, tears welling in her own eyes. "Nothing can help you but her."

After Finn and Maya had gone to bed and Quinn had gone home, Santana lay in the guest bedroom wide awake, her head pounding. The rest of Quinn's visit had gone smoothly, the two of them regaining composure as soon as Maya and Finn had reentered the room.

Later, she'd told Finn what Quinn had said, and he had simply nodded his head thoughtfully. She didn't press for advice, already knowing what she had to do. With a sigh, she decided she might as well do it now, keep herself from waiting and this feeling of anticipation from gnawing at her for much longer.

Rolling over onto her side and reaching for her phone on the nightstand, Santana dialed a familiar number.

"Hello?" Brittany's groggy voice answered. Santana glanced at the clock; it was after midnight.

"Brittany... It's Santana. I'm sorry it's so late," Santana said, speaking quietly. She heard some shuffling on Brittany's end, and then her voice again.

"No, it's fine, it's totally fine," she reassured quickly. "I'm happy to hear your voice. I miss you."

Santana remained silent, her breath hitching in her throat.

"I miss you, too." She let the words slip out, even if she wasn't sure Brittany deserved to hear them. "I heard that you quit..."

"I did," Brittany affirmed, her voice becoming more clear as she wakened further. "I couldn't be around them, knowing... With what happened..."

"I know," Santana said softly, letting Brittany off the hook from saying what they both already knew. There was no need for the words to be spoken outloud, not now. "I just wanted to tell you... I want you to come see Maya."

"Seriously?" Brittany's voice was excited but guarded, as if Santana might be playing a joke on her. "When?"

"This weekend?" Santana offered, closing her eyes tightly and trying to keep her voice from giving her weakness away. She'd felt a sudden surge of sadness, a longing for Brittany. These were the times that confused her, the times she was so sure she'd forgive Brittany if only she just promised to never do it again. Then of course, she would just get mad again, upset at herself, at Brittany, as if it'd just happened all over again.

"That sounds great, Santana. I miss her so much," Brittany said, and Santana could tell she was crying.

"I'm sorry," Santana said, her voice barely audible. "This is... It's not what I want."

"Us apart?"

"You away from Maya," Santana corrected, though she knew what Brittany said to be true as well. She just wasn't going to admit it, not when she knew in five minutes she'd just hate Brittany again, once she remembered. "You'll be here Saturday?"

"Yes," Brittany responded emphatically. "Any time."

There were a few long silent moments, Santana unsure of what to say. Brittany spoke again instead.

"Have you thought about..."

"I have," Santana replied, trying to keep her voice light.

"And?"

"I think that's something we'll talk about when you're here this weekend, Brittany," Santana said evenly, not wanting to give Brittany an impression of what she was going to say either way. She needed room to change her mind if suddenly in the morning this was a horrible idea.

"This weekend," Brittany agreed, though her voice was heavy. "I'll see you then."

"Yes."

"Santana?"

"Yeah, Britt?"

"I love you."

The phoneline went dead before Santana had a chance to respond, Brittany having hung up. Tossing her phone back on the nightstand, Santana sighed, curling into a ball on the bed. Closing her eyes, a few tears rolled down her cheeks, soaking into the sheets below her.

"I love you, too."